


the buzzing and the blood

by conchstellations



Series: lotf one-shot thingies!! [7]
Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:36:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28524831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conchstellations/pseuds/conchstellations
Summary: ralph stumbles into the forest, holding tightly to his bleeding wound, and expects to find a place to rest. the pig head on the stick smiles down at him.
Series: lotf one-shot thingies!! [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884880
Kudos: 4





	the buzzing and the blood

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!!!!
> 
> PLEASE READ, CW:  
> this story has a lot of mentions of blood, and gore. it's a lil gross by my standards, so like if you don't like gross, don't read. also ralph is very much not in a good headspace, and is not at all opposed to ending his life, so there's that as well. also, everyone is mean to ralph, and manipulative and nasty. they are also not against him ending his life, and are in fact encouraging him to do so. so once again, please don't read if you're not comfortable with that kind of thing. vomiting, descriptions of dead bodies, all that sorta stuff is in here too. so please keep all that in mind. 
> 
> i did kinda mess with canon a bit, the spear wound ralph gets from jack launching his spear at him is much more deeper and much worse because i said so. ralph gets away without the hunters chasing him too much. also, i dont understand why the lord of the flies was fully bone when ralph got to it, so i made it a lil nastier. i got bored and made ralph suffer. anyways, thats that.
> 
> i hope you like!!!

Ralph clutched the wound in his side tightly with his hands, hissing at the faint sting of pain that began to come from it. Blood poured down his hands, lacing itself around his fingertips like a never ending string, curling around his arm and dripping onto the sand below. It left small stains, and as Ralph heard the commotion around him die down, he realized it could possibly lead to his location. He quickly kicked the sand over top of the blood drop, covering his trail and continuing his stumbling. 

He didn't know where to go, or what to do, or if he should just give up. Giving up sounded good right now. They didn't care anymore. Jack didn't care anymore.

Nobody cared anymore. 

Ralph shook his head. Now wasn't the time. He had to get to safety, somewhere he could hide, somewhere where he wasn't blatantly obvious. If he stayed on the beach, he would be dead for sure, there was no cover. They would surround him while he slept, and he shuddered to think about what would happen. 

Looking around, Ralph took a deep breath, and ran into the forest, quickly pushing a branch aside as he dove into the undergrowth. The familiar thorns began to poke and prod at his feet, but he barely felt them, and began forming his own path through the trees. If he used one of their usual trails, there was a bigger chance he would be caught. He couldn't do that. 

Ralph snapped a twig under his foot and jumped into the air, momentarily releasing his grip on his side. A sob left his body, as the pain twisted into his skin and he felt as though it was in his very bones. He swallowed, and took a second to recollect himself, staring at the sticky blood. He felt like he was going to throw up, and his mind momentarily returned to Castle Rock, the chanting and cheering crowd, the sound of the boulder, the cracking noise that echoed endlessly in his head, and the silence that followed. 

The silence was the worst part. He had peered off the rock, almost wishing he would lose his balance and join Piggy on that terrible stone in the ocean, because if he was dead he at least wouldn't have to hear that ever again, see that ever again. Piggy's body seemed to be on his eyelids every time he blinked, the blood that had shot out like a squeezed plum, splattering the stone like a cruel abstract painting, the waves lapping hungrily at the body, licking at his corpse like a dog after a bone.

He remembered the way Piggy's bones jutted out from his flesh, the way that his body was bending in ways that it should never bend, the way he twitched and Ralph could've sworn he saw him blink. And while Piggy's eyes were empty, and blank, Ralph felt like they were staring at him, accusingly. They were a begging question, why hadn't Ralph protected Piggy? He had left him to die. He hadn't listened to him, he wasn't paying attention, it was his fault, really-

Ralph yelped as he fell over a stick in his path and landed on the forest floor with a crash. He was filled with fear, looking around frantically to see if he had alerted any of the other boys, but the forest was quiet. He breathed a sigh of relief and continued his useless attempt at safety, staggering through the forest.

He finally found a clearing, and didn't bother to look around for dangers before he collapsed onto a tree trunk. He was so tired he could fall asleep right there and then, but he decided to just take a rest for a few moments, collecting himself and preparing to continue his journey, if you could even call it that. 

He closed his eyes, and in that moment, he felt like he was drowning. His eyes were watering, and he blinked them down quickly. He couldn't cry, he had to be strong. He had so much work to do. He had to try, at the very least. 

Ralph finally looked back up, and immediately felt his heart sink in his chest.

A half rotted pig's head was mounted upon a stick, and it was staring directly at him. It's eyes were empty, gooey holes, dark and unseeing. The pig's little remaining fur was stuck together and matted by the honey-like blood that oozed down the stick and onto the floor. In some places the skull was visible, only thin layers of melted skin covering it like a blanket. The pig's mouth hung open, in a way that looked like it was smiling, laughing even, and Ralph thought it was going to swallow him whole. A large portion of the pig wasn't covered in fur, nor bone, but instead in flies. The black insects swarmed it, dodging and darting about, a heinous buzzing sound that rang around the clearing. They climbed on top of one another, feasting on the remains, and Ralph once again wanted to vomit. 

The lord of the flies grinned down at him, and Ralph finally caught hint of the smell, a putrid, awful, humid stench, the smell of death and decay, the smell of ends without beginnings and pain without pleasantry. Ralph couldn't hold it in anymore and dry heaved, happy for once that he hadn't eaten anything recently. His throat stung and ached, and he once again tried to throw up, but found himself unable to look away from the awful thing that hung there, watching him.

Ralph tore his eyes away and looked down at his wound, taking his hands off gently. It was deep. Far too deep for his liking, but he couldn't see any bone, so he assumed that was good. But the blood, the blood was pouring, leaking, it didn't seem to stop, it was a fountain that made him close his eyes and open them again to stare down at his ruined flesh. He quickly put his hands back over it and took more deep breaths. The pig head smiled. 

Ralph's head was spinning, and he felt dizzy, retching once more and spitting onto the ground. He raised his eyes against his better judgement, and crawled toward the pig's head, staring at it's eyes. It was captivating in a way, an awful, cruel way. 

Ralph held it's eye contact, and felt anger bubble in his throat. It was filling him, an undeniable hatred. Why him? He was a good child, he was loved at home, he wanted to go back, to be happy again. But instead he was staring at some demented carcass that was mutilated and placed on a stick like a plaything. It was funny, really, and he began to laugh to himself, but that didn't last long and he fell forwards, collapsing into a quiet sobbing. 

He cried for what felt like both seconds an eternity, rocking himself back and forth like an infant. He hated himself for crying, for not being brave, being strong, but he couldn't stop himself. It was too much for him, he wished he could just stop everything. It was overwhelming and frustrating and it was just too much all the time, like a heavy weight pressing on his chest and breaking his ribs one by one.

Ralph sniffed. This was miserable. It was hot out, and he felt uncomfortable, and the buzzing of the flies filled his ears but he could still hear the frantic pulsing and beating of his heart. He wiped a tear away. He needed to get up, to continue his way through the forest, to safety. Well, as much safety as he could get to, because Ralph knew that was impossible now. This was an island, and Jack would find him sometime soon.

Ralph gritted his teeth, and stared the pig back in the eyes, hiding his fear. He wanted to punch the skull, to attack it, to knock it to the ground and never see it again, but instead he just stared. Then, he spoke.

"I hate you."

"I know."

Ralph flinched, and terror gripped him once more, holding him in it's terrible clutches. Did it just speak? That wasn't possible. It was a pig, it was dead for god's sake. Ralph's vision was fuzzy but he could still see the lord of the flies, covered in that layer of insects that ate it's flesh like a buffet.

"What are you?" Ralph's voice was a shaky, barely comprehensible whisper.

"I think you know, don't you?" The lord of the flies answered, and there was a humour to it's voice, if you could ever call it a voice. It was as if the chorus of buzzing flies was creating words from their cacophony.

"I don't." Ralph hissed, and he held his side a little tighter, as if he was scared it was going to attack him. His skin was cold and clammy, and he was reminded of a corpse. He shuddered. 

"You're scared, aren't you?" The head ignored his question, and it was taunting him now, jeering and smiling that awful, awful smile, the smile that was far too wide for reality. 

Ralph wanted to run, and tried to stand up, but fell back to the ground. The pig head laughed at him. 

"They're gonna kill you, y'know?" The pig head spoke again. "They're going to murder you. Like they killed Piggy." 

Ralph closed his eyes tight. 

"Like you killed Simon." 

Ralph squeezed his eyes shut even more, refusing to look at it. He didn't kill Simon, it was like Piggy said. They couldn't see, it was dark, they were scared, Simon shouldn't have been there. 

"Ralph, face the truth. Look at me." The pig's voice was distorted now, and Ralph wiped another tear away, sniffling and slowly opening his eyes, raising his head. 

"You know what you did. They all know what you did. You killed Simon, and you knew it was him, didn't you?" The lord of the flies was looming over him, it's shadow covering the ground in an unearthly darkness, an awful, awful darkness.

"I didn't."

"He was screaming, Ralph. You know Simon's voice, don't you?"

"I do."

"Did it feel good to kill?"

Ralph fell to the ground, shocked. The voice of the flies was familiar now, too familiar, and Ralph sobbed, not daring to look at it again. He couldn't. He wouldn't. 

"Answer me."

Simon's voice echoed back at him, but it was all wrong. His voice was cruel, twisted, it vibrated and buzzed and swarmed. It wasn't human, but Ralph couldn't help but cry. Simon was dead, he couldn't be talking, Simon was gone, he was no longer there with them. 

Because Ralph killed him. Ralph squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his head. He killed Simon, he murdered him, and he knew he did, and as he fully realized the truth he was unable to keep himself steady and finally vomited onto the ground, his stomach emptying with a sickening splatter, it's contents pooling around him. He wiped his mouth.

"I'm sorry Simon."

"It's a little too late for that, don't you think?" Simon's voice was unkind, it was thorns without the roses, and Ralph's head hurt. He held his hands to his head, cradling it, the blood that stuck to his fingers getting caught in his hair. His hands were cold, so cold, like the ocean water in the morning before the sun had come out. 

"Do you hate me, Simon?" The words fell from Ralph's mouth before he could stop them. He had forgotten he was talking to a corpse, he was caught up in the illusion of Simon's voice. As awful as it was, it was familiar, it was a friend, and he clung to it. 

"Yes." 

Ralph looked at the ground once more, and vomited again. It was red, bloody, awful. He had to look away, hiding his face in his hands. 

"Shut up." Ralph wailed, and he felt frustration consume him. "Shut up, shut up." Ralph's hands clutched at his hair tightly, messy and matted and gross.

"Shut up!" Ralph screamed until his throat was raw. He had no doubt any nearby hunter would hear him and kill him, but he didn't care, he wanted them to hear him. He wanted them to come, to take his attention away from this thing on a stick. 

"Why didn't you protect me, Ralph?"

Ralph froze, and the voice was ringing in his ears, and now Piggy was speaking to him instead of the lord of the flies. A buzzing voice, an awful, terrible vibrating voice that he didn't want to hear. 

"I said shut up!" Ralph was frantic now, his heart racing, and he just wanted to go to sleep, to disappear, to be anywhere but here.

"Maybe if you shut up earlier, we wouldn't be in this situation." The voice was calm, cool, collected, and Ralph remembered Piggy so vividly, it sounded just like him, but it was oh so wrong. Piggy had a warmth to him, but this was like ice to his ears, it was hollow and void and everything Piggy wasn't and was at the same time.

"I-" Ralph tried to take a deep breath but it was too hard. "I know, alright?"

"Good. We could've gone home, Ralph. But you couldn't let that happen, huh? You didn't listen, did you?"

Ralph forced his tongue to move. "No."

"Exactly."

Ralph's limbs felt heavy, and the aching of his head pounded more and more, to the pace of the swift beating of his heart. He felt dizzy, and the world was spinning around him, so he shut his eyes and decided it wasn't worth it to keep them open. There was nothing to see but blood and flesh and vomit covered grass. The pain in his side was slowly disappearing, and while confused, Ralph relaxed a little. The pain was going away, he was going to be okay. It would all be okay. It had to all be okay.

"You won't be okay." The original voice was back now, in all of it's buzzing and hissing glory. "You don't deserve to be okay, do you Ralph?"

"Shut up." It was pathetic, but it was all Ralph could think of.

"We could've been friends, Ralph." The pig's head voice morphed once more into one Ralph no longer felt comfortable with. This wasn't like Piggy or Simon, as awful as their words were coming from the skull's mouth, at least they were welcome, they reminded him of their presences, his friends.

Ralph shook. Jack's voice wasn't friendly anymore. Jack's voice was the yelling and shouting on that godawful rock, it was the challenging words and the blood pooling out of his side. And it was telling him they could've been friends.

Ralph tried to respond, but he couldn't. His mouth was too dry, and he couldn't think anymore. 

"We got along so well." The voice was stinging and Ralph tried to block it out. "If you listened to me, this wouldn't have happened, y'know."

Ralph took a gasp of air, and his throat was raw and it hurt, but even that pain was slowly melting away, disappearing, pouring away from him. 

"If you weren't here, this wouldn't have happened." Jack's voice said.

Ralph didn't care anymore. The pain was almost fully gone, his skin was so cold, so very cold, and he was once again reminded of the ocean. He was reminded of the reflections of the stars on late nights, of the sand under his toes. He was reminded of splashing water and the feeling of the conch under his palms. His head didn't hurt anymore. Nothing hurt anymore. Nobody would hurt anymore. The voice had shut up.

Ralph collapsed, finally, landing face first into the grass below the pig head. His body looked almost peaceful, his hands had fallen over his chest, he looked like he was sleeping, almost. The blood that surrounded him was rose-coloured, and the flies buzzed quietly, a peaceful melody that slowly drifted away from Ralph. He took a breath, and let himself slip away.

The pig head hung over his corpse, satisfied by the golden boy that would join it in it's eternal rot. The flies began to swarm the boy.

The lord of the flies lay on the ground, eyes closed, his golden hair surrounding him like a crown.

**Author's Note:**

> heyo!! thanks for reading, hope you liked. i tried to make it in character, (for ralph ofc, the others r supposed to be lil bitches because theyre just ralph's mind fuckin w him a lil) but i also wrote this at like 3am because i felt like it so this is probably not up to my normal standard but oh well, it b like that. i hope u vibed with it, have a good day / night! :)))


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